


Risk Well in Hand

by deawrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Explicit Language, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 09:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: Jim tells Harvey secrets.





	Risk Well in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out though. All comments, kudos, criticisms, and suggestions welcome.
> 
> To my one and only my wife. You are my sounding board and "awwww" factory.

**Risk Well in Hand**

Roosterspur Bridge by Tori Amos

“Sometimes I think

I think I understand

The fear in the boy

The fire in the man”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

The question was so simple yet held so much anxiety for Jim Gordon to hear; let alone answer. It wasn’t like it was a mere stranger asking; not even an acquaintance, but it was his best friend. Harvey Bullock was the one person in the world that Jim knew that he could trust implicitly. He was unyielding in his support, love and care for Jim and had always stood by his side, even when Jim even doubted he deserved such loyalty. They were intimate with one another; had lived through some of the darkest times Gotham City could throw at them. Their friendship had evolved from loathing of one another to the humble beginnings of something Jim couldn’t title as mere brotherhood. What he felt for Harvey spanned far beyond anything he had ever bestowed upon another human being in his thirty-four-years of life and there were no words to describe it aloud. Yet despite that; despite his immense trust of the man, Jim couldn’t get the words to dislodge from his throat and fall from his lips.

 

At the best of times the question, ‘do you want to talk about it’ was dismissed with an incredulous glare and curt shake of the head, at the worst Jim endured guilt for days because he hadn’t been honest and laid himself bare.  This was one of the worst, that Jim was determined to punch through; even if he couldn’t swallow his fear he would somehow move past it. Tears pricked his gaze and he turned his gaze away from the blank television screen and turned his face to look at Harvey. They were seated upon Harvey’s worn, leather couch; Harvey’s right arm was resting upon Jim’s shoulders and his right leg was pressed against Jim’s left. The physical contact was grounding and expected; Jim craved it when it wasn’t there but for now it was and it was a soothing factor.  Harvey had a beer bottle resting between his legs, his left hand casually holding it and Jim’s untouched one rested upon the coffee table before him.

 

Jim swallowed. “I,” He paused for a split second and cleared his throat as his unshed tears thickened. “I miss my father.”

 

To his credit, the only surprise Harvey outwardly showed was that of slightly parted lips and a soft, sharp, intake of breath.  “Yeah?” He asked to gently prompt Jim to continue, unjudged and unhurried.

 

Jim nodded.  “I think about him, most days; every day when things are, you know.” Jim’s lips quirked into a sorrowful smirk before he added, “ _Difficult_.” Jim searched Harvey’s expression and saw acceptance there. The older male didn’t comment, not because he didn’t know what to say; Harvey always said the right things; but rather because he was listening courteously.  “Sometimes I think that my parents never really loved each other. Respected, admired; yes, but not truly **loved**.” Jim’s gaze shifted away from Harvey’s for a few mere seconds in assessment. “My mother is so cold; aloof and she holds people at arms-length. I guess that’s why I do. I learned it from watching her.” Jim’s smirk faded the instant he had begun talking about his mother yet returned the instant he mentioned his father once more.

 

“Dad? He was her opposite. He was warm; congenial; people instantly liked him. Don’t get me wrong, he guarded his privacy and didn’t befriend many people, but he had a hell of allot of acquaintances that would do just about anything for him.” Jim shrugged a shoulder and searched Harvey’s expression once more. “He was a bit like you in that way. He knew people and enjoyed interacting with them. Cared enough to ask them questions about themselves, talk about what was happening in their daily lives, and remember their answers.” Adoration tinged Jim’s deep, blue, eyes as he compared his father’s attributes to the good he saw in Harvey’s personality. “I could never be like that, I’m too much of my mother now. Then? When he was alive? It was easier. I mimicked what he did and the world seemed, so much brighter.” He had possessed hope at that point where as now he barely had a shred of it left. Harvey saw this clearly yet refrained from commenting on it to ensure that Jim kept talking.

 

“He fenced in high school and college.” Jim revealed in awe of his dead father’s abilities. “Not many people knew that about him. He didn’t flaunt his accomplishments; at least not in that aspect; but he was damn good. We used to pick up sticks in the park and sword fight sometimes. Then he got these practice coils that were made of weighted plastic and we’d parry and thrust, dancing around the back yard like two idiots.” Jim hesitated, smile broadening and he wiped a hand over his mouth and chin before looking at Harvey once more. “On nights, my mother was at some faculty function he’d let me stay up late with him and Roger. We’d lay in Dad’s bed and watch old Errol Flynn movies or Perry Mason re-runs. He’d point out all the errors and accuracies in the sword fights or law. Roger would get tired of it after a while and fall asleep so it would just be me cuddled up next to Dad trying to memorize everything he was telling me until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.”  Jim chuckled fondly at the memory before his smile vanished. “Mom would get home and fuss at Roger and I like we were the ones that had kept Dad up and not the other way around. I would always apologize but I never meant it; not because it wasn’t my fault but because I wasn’t sorry in the least. I loved those times. Even if we didn’t always have snacks and Roger wanted to watch something else so we did. I loved those old movies and that stupid T.V. show.” Jim rested his head against Harvey’s shoulder.

 

“She wasn’t that way with us; easy going or happy. When my father was home he was **home** , not working, but engaged in our lives.” Jim paused and sighed silently, his chest raising and falling deeply with the act of it. He subconsciously rubbed his cheek against Harvey’s shoulder for a few seconds lost in thought.  “He used a jade handled, straight razor to shave with. Every morning I’d watch him sharpen and use it. The special soap he used and how it foamed up when he swirled the round brush over it. He always promised he would teach me how to use it when I was old enough.” Sorrow edged into Jim’s tone; laced in regret. “Uncle Frank taught me how to shave, but he said only old souls like my father wasted time with straight razors.”  Jim stilled his head and pulled his lips into his mouth as he added softly, “I have it. His whole shaving kit I took it from his things after,” Jim didn’t need to specify after what and Harvey didn’t fill in the blank either. He did however place a gentle kiss upon Jim’s head and tightened his grip around his shoulders. “I’ve thought about using it but, I haven’t yet.”

 

Harvey rubbed Jim’s shoulder and rested his cheek upon his head.  “Someday right?” He encouraged softly not wanting to say too much but knowing he should say something at least.

 

Jim sighed contentedly and closed his eyes. “Yeah.” He stated barely above a whisper. He reached for Harvey’s left hand with his own; once their hands were clasped he said, “Thank you.”

 

“Anytime.” Harvey vowed as for the next half hour they sat in silence and Harvey held Jim until he pulled away and asked if he could sleep the night upon Harvey’s couch. He was not denied his request and with reluctance Harvey left him with a spare bed pillow and blanket for comfort. He paused at the threshold of his bedroom door and cast a wishful look back over his shoulder at Jim, attempting to settle in upon the couch beneath the blanket in the dark of the living room. Harvey smiled affectionately at his friend and wished; not for the first time; he was brave enough to venture asking Jim to share his bed instead of relegating himself to the couch. Harvey wasn’t a coward but he knew enough to see when he shouldn’t press his luck.

 

Four days later Harvey was late to work by a third of the shift. Jim had sent text after text but they had gone unanswered save for a single _, ‘I’ll be in shortly’_. It had been an unsatisfactory answer as Harvey didn’t show up to the precinct until an hour and a half later. By then Jim’s frown was a permanent fixture upon his features and he was biting everyone’s heads off that approached him. The moment he saw Harvey he was about to launch into a tirade about being punctual when Harvey removed his hat and set it upon Jim’s desk instead of his own.  Jim was instantly struck at how altered Harvey’s hair was; it was shaped into some semblance of an actual style, and no longer just past the top of his shoulders. It was cut off at the nape and parted, and if he hadn’t been so taken aback he would have complimented his partner on his appearance.

 

Instead Jim demanded, “What the hell did you do to your hair?”

 

“Nothing.” Harvey stated nonchalantly as he rounded the corners of their desks and sat down in his chair. He shrugged before adding. “But the barber I just discovered, did.” He smirked at Harvey and pointed to Jim’s hair in indication. “You should go see him and really do something about that rat’s nest of yours.” He teased of Jim’s short cropped hair.

 

Jim’s frown deepened and his features narrowed angrily. “You were over four hours late to work because you were _getting a haircut_?”  Harvey opened his hands in grand gesture and sat back in his chair. Jim’s jaw set and he closed his eyes and took a breath, obviously attempting to control his anger and inclination to lash out in rebuttal. Upon opening his eyes, he hissed, “Can we **please** get some work done now? If it’s not too difficult to schedule it in to your new career as a hair model?”

 

Harvey smirked and cut off a grunt of laughter. “That’s funny.” He nodded and reached for his phone messages from other detectives and the desk sergeant and shuffled the pink slips of paper in his fingers. “Seriously though, you have an appointment around shift’s end today.” Jim glared across their desks at Harvey.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Harvey leveled his gaze at his partner. “You heard me. And don’t think you’re going to weasel out of it. This is gonna happen so just resign yourself and surrender to the inevitability.” Harvey opened his hands then arms in gesture of acceptance. “Yes. We can get some work done now.”

 

Jim fumed much of the afternoon but near quitting time he was calmer and seeking ways to dawdle over paper work and return phone calls.  By the time his shift had officially ended Harvey cut off Jim’s final phone call and took the handset from him and set it in the cradle. “Come on, Junior.” He said more affectionately than he normally permitted himself to be at work. “It’s quittin’ time.”

 

“I’m not going to forget this, Harv.” Jim warned with affection laced anger.

 

“I know.” Harvey dismissed, tugging on Jim’s arm to get him to stand up. “But we got somewhere we gotta be.” Jim sulked from the time they left work to the time they found parking up the street from the barber shop Harvey brought them too. “You ready for this Junior?” Harvey asked with a wide smile and Jim merely glared at him in response. “You’re gonna love it. I promise you.”

 

Once inside the barber shop there was an elderly African American man, with gray hair and matching goatee. He was sweeping the floor and looked up immediately at Harvey. “Detective Bullock. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

 

“You too, sir.” Harvey stated taking off his hat now that he was inside the building. Jim noticed the mark of respect that normally Harvey dispensed with. He looked from Harvey to the older man who motioned to Jim.

 

“This must be the young man you told me about.”

 

“This is Jim.” Harvey stated proudly as he slung an arm around Jim’s shoulders. “I appreciate you doing this, sir.”

 

The man leaned upon the broom and chuckled. “Leroy is my name. Best you mind using it or this is going to be a very formal exchange indeed.” Harvey clapped Jim on the shoulder and guided him in Leroy’s direction. “Alright there Jim, just sit up in that chair and we’ll get started.”

 

Jim attempted to stand his ground but Harvey began herding him in the direction of the chair, pushing none too subtlety when Jim dug his heels in. “While I appreciate your offer, I really don’t need a haircut and I apologize for wasting your time.”

 

Leroy raised his eyebrows in surprise. He looked from Harvey to Jim and back once more. “You didn’t tell him I gather?”

 

Harvey flushed a little and looked contrite as he glanced at the floor before answering, “Uh, no. It was a surprise.”

 

Jim immediately looked at Harvey feeling the older male’s arm tighten around him as if to warn off his burst of anger. “ _What_ surprise?”

 

Harvey ran his free hand down his mouth to his jaw and chin before responding, “Leroy has been kind enough to agree to show you how to use a straight razor properly.”

 

Jim’s fury leeched from him and he paled, eyes softening as he stared into Harvey’s expression. “You?” Was all he could manage to say before he fell to silence.

 

Harvey nodded and admitted, “This morning I came in to get a haircut and Leroy and I got to talking so, here we are.”

 

Jim knew that Harvey was lying for Leroy’s benefit. He knew damn well that Harvey never made appointments or considered his hair as anything but an afterthought.  He had purposely sought out a barber that he could befriend casually so that he could make the request for Jim’s lesson. It was such typical Harvey behavior but in the same instant stole Jim’s breath right out of him. He was floored by the older detective’s care of and love for him.

 

“Of course.” Jim stated with immense gratitude. He swallowed giving himself a second to steady his voice and clear the excess moisture from his gaze with a few blinks before turning to address Leroy. “Thank you. I’d love to learn.” He extricated himself from Harvey’s embrace and moved to the chair that Leroy had originally indicated. Leroy leaned the broom up against another chair and moved to where Jim sat, while Harvey crossed his arms and beamed with pride.

 

Jim learned that there were some subtle and a few major differences between using a straight razor versus a regular cartridge or electric one. Leroy was patient and thorough, the perfect teacher and Jim made certain he tipped him heavily for his time. By the time they left the shop the sun had set and they walked into the car in silence. Upon being seated inside of it Harvey hesitated to start the engine and looked at Jim’s profile, expectant as Jim turned to lock gazes with him.

 

“I can never thank you enough. That was,” His voice trailed off as he struggled to find words to accurately describe his sentiments.

 

“I know.” Harvey soothed reaching out and placing a hand upon Jim’s knee. “I just thought that,” Harvey snapped silent when Jim grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, his gaze liquifying, blue eyes darkening three shades from his unshed tears.

 

“You’d take care of me.” Jim finished of Harvey’s previous statement. “Like he would have if he was alive.”

 

Harvey shrugged modestly then smiled sadly. “Jim, I don’t want to be your surrogate father.”

 

“You’re **not**.” Jim assured emphatically and applied more pressure to their union of hands. “I just find myself trying to repeatedly gain your approval.”

 

“ **Don’t**.” Harvey implored running his thumb across the back of Jim’s hand. He tugged a little at their union. “You have it already. Along with my respect, my admiration, my lo-“ Harvey cleared his throat of emotion and finished, “ **love**. You have everything Jim so, don’t think you need to prove yourself to me; not _ever_.”

 

Jim nodded and looked back out the windscreen. “We should go. I’m starving.” He gave Harvey’s hand one final squeeze prior to letting it go and didn’t risk looking at his partner for fear of bursting into tears.  His heart was pounding and emotions swirling in a confusion of overwhelming affection. He swallowed and tried to regulate his breathing and slow his heartbeat down as Harvey started the car and pulled into traffic. He knew that Harvey was just as affected as him, but being a man that showed his emotions Harvey had a better handle on himself quicker than Jim ever could.

 

They dined on Thai take out and in the background had the television on tuned into a Gotham Gladiator’s hockey game. The volume was turned down because the game wasn’t important as their companionship was.  Harvey used chop sticks and Jim used a fork, they both were canted slightly upon the couch to face each other more than merely sit side by side. Harvey’s knee was nearly touching Jim’s and whenever Jim shifted just the slightest bit they rubbed together. Neither male moved back to halt contact and stared down into their take away containers, every once and a while switching with one another just for variety. The signal to do so unspoken.

 

“My father hated Chinese food but he loved Indian curries.” Jim stated stirring the contents of his container before taking another bite. Upon swallowing he continued, “Mom preferred Mediterranean but he’d only send his assistant to one or the other instead of making her retrieve both.” Jim sighed heavily and raised his gaze to watch Harvey eat. “My palate wasn’t as refined then and pizza places delivered so there was never any conflict. Roger loved take out nights.” Jim smirked and lowered the container towards his lap. “He’d get all the meats he could on his pizza and I liked the one’s with everything on them. Sometimes he’d eat my left overs though, so I know he liked the vegetables too.”

 

“When did you start liking Indian?” Harvey asked casually glancing rather than staring at Jim. He was being very careful with his words not wanting Jim to feel pressured or shut down from speaking of his childhood memories now that he had begun to entrust them to Harvey. It meant the world for Jim to reveal them and Harvey wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

“Mmm,” Jim considered. “In the military. A guy in our unit got care packages from his mother during basic and he shared as much as would go around. We’d rotate turns to be fair to everyone and I got a taste for it.” Jim nodded. “My father though, he was a little bit of a snob when it came to choosing where to eat. Didn’t matter what the cuisine was, he knew which places were the tastiest and which were pale imitations. Roger became particular about food too, in fact; the whole family was each in their own way.” Jim shrugged and met Harvey’s gaze. “It’s why I give you such a hard time about where we eat sometimes. I try not to, but old habits and all.”

 

“Like you said, Junior: refined palates; you have one and I don’t.” Harvey teased with a smile.

 

Jim chuckled. “Food aside? I think my father would have really liked your company.” Jim paused for a silent stretch and they held gazes, Harvey barely daring to breathe until Jim spoke once more. “He would have seen through your façade like I finally did. He would have told me that you were a good friend to me and I should be thankful to have you in my life: I am.” Jim looked away for a few seconds the emotions raging through him too overwhelming to allow for him to stare into Harvey’s face. “You make me a better man just knowing you.” Jim admitted softly.

 

“Ah, Jim- “

 

“You do.” Jim interrupted risking looking up.  “Don’t pretend you don’t know; that you can’t see it. You push me to step out of my comfort zone, you encourage me to interact with people when all I would do without you is live in my own head. You save me again, and again. He would have known that; I would have told him; and he would have thanked you.”

 

“And my Mom would have **loved** you.” Harvey proclaimed in utter honesty to match Jim’s. “She would have said you were the best thing that’s ever happened to me and she’d be right. We’re even in that, and I’m glad he would have liked me. I’d of enjoyed meeting the man you love more than anyone else in the world.”

 

“Not anymore.” Jim admitted swallowing as he placed his take-out container upon the coffee table. “You know that’s **you** now, right?”

 

Harvey flushed with embarrassment. He set his own meal down and Jim reached out quickly to grab one of his hands just as he had prior in the car. Their gazes locked and Harvey nodded. “I know.” Harvey felt Jim squeeze his hand. “Just like you gotta know that when I say that ‘ _I love you’_ , I don’t just mean as a brother and best friend.”

 

Jim paled and Harvey feared the worst; his stomach clenched and he hoped he wouldn’t vomit all over Jim. He needn’t have worried as Jim rose abruptly and released Harvey’s hand like it burned him. He backed away before turning around and taking several steps away from the couch. Jim pressed a hand to his mouth and his lips pursed as his jaw set hard. Lowering his hand, he slowly turned and placed both hands upon his hips reluctantly. It was a dominant stance; he knew; but stood that way regardless.

 

“Please don’t say that.”

 

Anger flashed in Harvey’s gaze yet it wasn’t as deep as his pain. “What? You mean out loud?” He challenged standing up as well. “Because you can’t be that fricken _blind,_ Jim.” Harvey insisted motioning with his hands as he talked. “I show you in every conceivable way that I’m in love with you, and all you have to say to me is, ‘ _don’t say_ **that’**?” Harvey opened his arms wide. “Really? You’re going to stand there and pretend like you don’t think about it? Like I’m the only one pressing up against somebody and letting them stay the night, and giving every damned part of myself over to them without question? Because from where I’m standing? You’re just as fucking guilty!”

 

One of Jim’s hands moved up towards his temple. He closed his eyes and took a breath before reopening them and lowering his hand to say, “I’m **not** like you Harvey. I can’t,” Jim paused as his breath evaporated and tears pricked his gaze. “I **can’t**.”

 

“What?” Harvey demanded not backing down. “You can’t be in love with me? Because that’s utter bullshit! You can be in love with anyone you happen to be in love with, Jim. It’s not relegated- “

 

“I’m not a fucking fag!” Jim yelled bitterly, jaw clenched and expression flushed in fury. He glared at Harvey as his chest rose and fell rapidly.

 

Stunned, Harvey blinked at him. “Is that what you think of **me**?” Harvey demanded nearly calm. “Jim, I like both sexes. And even if I didn’t; even if I just liked men; who the hell **cares**?”

 

“Don’t!” Jim hissed in warning, eyes flashing hostile with his internalized darkness. “I don’t care, who’s what in the outside world. But here,” He said motioning to his chest. “ _I’m_. **Not**. Gay.” Jim lowered his hand, fist clenching. “Understand me?”

 

Harvey’s stance relaxed a little and he hoped the anger drained a little from his features. “Fine. You’re straight, okay? For the record, I wasn’t implying you were _anything_.” Harvey ran a hand back through his hair out of habit and not necessity. “But I gotta tell you, Jim: even if you were in love with me? It wouldn’t mean you were **gay**. You could just be a straight guy that fell in love with someone that just happened not to be a woman.”

 

Both of Jim’s fists were clenched now and he glared at Harvey with such utter rage for an instant Harvey thought the man was going to fly across the room at him.  “We’re **done** talking about this.”

 

Harvey held his palms up in supplication. “Sexuality yes, but us?” Harvey lowered his hands. “No, friggin’ way is that conversation is closed; **ever**.”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“No, it isn’t.”

 

“Yes. It. Is.”

 

“No. It. Isn’t.”

 

“Fuck you, Harvey, it’s **over**.”

 

“Fuck you, Jim; it’s **not**.”

 

“You’re acting like a child!”

 

“Says the guy who’s now yelling at me like a tantrum throwing toddler!”

 

“Because we’re done!”

 

“Goddamn it, Jim! Will you just drop it already? I’m not judging you. I’m not assuming anything either. I’m just _trying_ to get you to be my boneheaded, **idiot** , boyfriend!”

 

“That’s never going to happen!” Jim yelled taking a few steps in Harvey’s direction. Harvey held out a hand and placed it in the center of Jim’s chest to stave off a physical confrontation.

 

“Then get your ass outta my home and don’t talk to me until you’ve come to your senses!”  The punch flew but Jim televised it enough for Harvey to block it and wring Jim’s arm behind his back. He held his opposite arm about Jim’s neck and held the younger male against his chest, making the arm pinned between them bend just enough to hurt to still Jim’s struggling.  “Listen to me, jackass,” Harvey breathed in Jim’s left ear. “I love you, you love me; and there is **nothing** wrong with that. You hear me? Your father wouldn’t care, and neither will my family. We’re made for each other and nothing you can threaten, or punch, or yell is going to change that. **Understand**?”

 

“Let me go, Harvey!”

 

“Not until you tell me that you understand.”

 

“Fuck,”

 

“Ah, ah.” Harvey interrupted. “Tell me!”

 

“I fucking understand!” Jim spat struggling a little once again.

 

Jim winced in pain when Harvey kissed him upon the temple tenderly and said, “I love you and if you take a swing at me, I’m not going to fight back. Remember that.” Harvey released Jim, who flailed his arms and spun away from Harvey, expression akin to that of a feral animal narrowly escaping capture. Jim didn’t even say good night, didn’t say anything as he grabbed his gun, badge and suit jacket before storming out of Harvey’s apartment and slammed the door behind him. Harvey cursed and kicked the couch before rubbing his hands down his face.  Jim was infuriating but as Grace Bullock had told her son, ‘Without irritation, there can be no love’.  Harvey just wished that he loved Jim a little less.

 

Jim slammed his apartment door closed and paced for a few minutes until he started attacking his punching bag with zeal. He hurt his hands because they were neither taped or protected with training gloves. He kicked the bag a few times in frustration before surrendering to the physical pain and going to the kitchen to ice his hands. The burn of the ice was comforting in its aching way, and Jim cursed to himself replaying the argument he had waged against Harvey within his head. He knew, was convinced; that Harvey was full of shit, and it _did_ matter what was implied; or said about him; regarding interest in another male. He despised that other man was Harvey, only because of the intimacy infused into their current relationship. How could Harvey think that no one would care? People were primed and starving for gossip; they enjoyed judging others unrealistically and Jim knew he would be more of a target then most others in the department. Because of who he was, how he declared himself and demanded justice and the rules of engagement be followed to the letter. He upheld policies and procedures like a holy text and if anyone got wind of the fantasies he had about Harvey’s body, no one would ever take him seriously again. Not because it was Harvey he wanted, but because the object of his lust and desire was another man.

 

Jim hated small minded bigotry. He had heard horror stories of other police officers coming out only to bleed to death because back up refused to support them. Jim didn’t want slurs directed at him, graffiti on his locker or dildos and gay porn left in his desk drawers. He didn’t want Harvey to get into fist fights because he felt obligated to protect the flagging reputation of his partner. Besides, Jim **wasn’t** gay. Gordon’s were upstanding, civil serving, pious citizens; never counted among the depraved or socially undesirable. Jim’s mother, Nora would berate him for such weakness of the mind if he did have a penchant for male lovers. Never mind what Roger would say; he would undoubtedly feel justified in his exclusion of Jim from his life altogether. Nora would be ashamed, angry with him, tell him how his father would have been scandalized if he were still living. Jim wanted to hit something and settled for the cabinet just to the left of his head and cried out in anguish before forcing his hand into the freezer ice bucket. The cheap wood of the cabinet was indented and Jim leaned his forehead against the doors, and cursed to himself, berating his slip of self-control.

 

How could this have happened? Why wouldn’t it stop? Jim screwed his eyes shut tightly and his features pinched in anger. He yelled, ‘fuck’ and broke down into hot, shamed, irate tears. He struck his forehead against the cupboard; at first gently then gaining in force with each impact, until his head spun and there was blood trailing down his nose. Jim seized a few paper towels and dried off his hands, wiped off the blood from his face, and opened a lower cupboard to seize a bottle of liquor out of it. He kept the hard stuff around mostly for Harvey, but tonight this bottle had his name on it and Jim was intent on drinking away the words swirling through his head. He hated himself; hated the world; and most of all hated Harvey for shining light upon something he had no right too. Crying, in physical and emotional agony, Jim carried the bottle to his couch and collapsed upon his knees in front of it. He slowly dragged himself up onto the cushions and opened the bottle. It took him several minutes to compose himself enough to be able to swallow the whiskey down, but he did. Once the burn hit his throat he tilted the bottle back and chugged.

 

In the morning Jim had a small knot on his forehead, dried blood dusting the knuckles of his right hand, while the left was swollen twice its size. He couldn’t bend his fingers and he cursed when he realized he must have broken it. It was agonizing to change his clothes and wash up. He didn’t shave and called on Alvarez to drive him to the hospital. He curtly demanded why the hell Bullock couldn’t do it and Jim just ordered him to get his ass over to his flat or he’d ask Alvarez’s wife out on a date. That got the other detective moving without further questions; at least until he saw the shape Jim was in, hung over, dark circles under his eyes, swollen hand and bashed up forehead. When he asked what had happened, Jim merely barked at him to drive. Alvarez pushed one last question, asking if Bullock had finally gotten sick of Jim’s sanctimonious boy scout shit and banged his head on the bar, to which Jim told him soundly to go fuck himself; and seethed in silence until they arrived at the emergency room. Jim threatened Alvarez under penalty of death not to say a word about his injuries to the bullpen before sending him on his way to work, but the promise of violence was hardly one that the other detective took seriously. The instant Alvarez arrived to the GCPD station house he crowed about Jim’s appearance and how he’d be late to work for once due to them.

 

Harvey paled hearing about the damage but shrugged off Tuttle’s hand from his shoulder, praised for finally popping the little shit in the mouth.  Harvey yelled at them that he hadn’t touched Jim and that they all had work to do; citizens to serve and protect, so that they should do so immediately. He went to his office and found his hands were shaking as he reached for the phone and dialed Jim’s cell. His call was ignored and Harvey cursed instead of leaving a voice mail. He tried again a few minutes later from his own cell, but was ignored once more. Taking the hint, Harvey fumed at his desk and worried about Jim hating himself so much that he had to drink himself into self-injury that required a visit to hospital.  Harvey ran a hand back through his hair and took a pull from his flask just to stop his stomach from churning over upon itself. He sat down and stared at the files on his desk and looked up at the empty desk where Jim had always sat.

 

Was it that horrible to be in love with him? So, disgusting that Jim would rather break his own hand then admit that there was something between them? Was he that ashamed of Harvey? Of himself, deep down? He had railed against being titled a ‘faggot’, but Harvey hadn’t accused him of being homosexual. Was Jim? Could he be? Was that why he was so opposed to admitting to loving Harvey more than just a brother and best friend? Would he rather cut off his nose to spite himself by trying to make a life with women he should love as a straight man, yet couldn’t because he was gay? How could Jim despise himself so much that he’d want to be unhappy for the rest of his life because of something his parents might have believed? Or brother? Harvey flinched at the realization. Not his parents per say, but his **father**. Peter Gordon had the power to dictate his son’s love life from the grave, and no one should hold that ability save Jim.

 

“Oh Junior.” Harvey stated softly and brought a hand down over his mouth and chin. While he couldn’t confront Jim at work they would talk that night after Harvey got off shift. With a broken hand, he was going to send Jim home for the first day; no arguments accepted from the younger detective. He should be at home anyway working off his hangover and resting, head spinning from prescription pain killers.  When Jim finally did slink into work a few hours later, Harvey yelled through the door for him to come to his office and Jim obeyed, glaring at Harvey behind the desk like he was just a second away from sailing across its surface to throttle him within an inch of the Irishman’s life. Harvey ignored his expression and his own was soft upon seeing the butterfly tape on Jim’s forehead and cast upon his left arm.

 

“You need to take the day off. You’re in no condition to be here right now. I’ll see you tomorrow first thing.”

 

“I’m working.”

 

Harvey placed his hands upon his hips. “It wasn’t a request Jim. I don’t want you at work smelling like a brewery, unshaven and freshly bruised. Take the day, and go **home**. The city’ll survive one day without you on duty.”

 

“So, it’s alright for the commanding officer to be hungover _more_ than he’s sober at work, but not one of his detectives to be for a single _day_?” There was venom to Jim’s question and it was designed to hurt Harvey below the belt.

 

Harvey exhaled through his nose. “Would you rather I suspended you?”

 

“You can’t do that without just cause.”

 

“In case you’ve forgotten Jim, I’m the freaking **captain**. I can do whatever I damn well please. And right now? I want you out of my office and somewhere other than work. Now get the fuck outta here.”

 

Jim glared at him, jaw setting and he was about to protest; push his luck simply because he was Harvey’s best friend, but the ringing of the office phone severed their eye contact and Harvey answered it on the second ring. He glanced at Jim and then the door and furious, Jim pivoted on his heel and exited, slamming the door behind him. He stormed out of the precinct not caring that anyone was staring at him or laughing, or wondering what had crawled up his ass; Jim just left. He went home because he had nowhere else to go. He changed out of his suit into lounge clothing, took another dose of medication for pain, and climbed into bed.  Harvey was being ridiculous and Jim hated him.

 

Harvey picked up some comfort food take away and headed over to Jim’s apartment once his shift ended. He didn’t stay after work, or answer anymore phone calls, merely walked away from the chaos that was his position and headed out.  He knocked upon Jim’s door loudly and waited several seconds before doing so again. It took four cycles but Jim finally pulled the door open. He looked disheveled and pale. Harvey wanted to pull him into his arms and spend the night coddling him, yet instead he said, “You still angry at me?”

 

Jim blinked at him. The pain medication had mostly worked out of his system and it hurt to move the fingers of his left hand. His mouth felt and tasted like something had crawled in there and died, and he was a little wobbly in his stance. Emotionally he was wrung out; the dreams he had experienced while asleep both anxiety inducing and violent.  Not feeling like he could withstand another disagreement, Jim surrendered momentarily and shook his head.

 

“Can I come in then?” Harvey requested. He held up the bag. “I’ve got you something to eat.”

 

Jim stepped back from the door and motioned for Harvey to enter. After the other male was inside, he closed and locked the door once more. Harvey took the take out into the kitchen and noticed the blood on the floor, counter and the dent in the cabinet. He said nothing about any of it and placed the bag on the counter top and took a second to remember where Jim sorted his flatware before getting out a couple of plates.

 

“You don’t have to do that.” Jim said softly as he entered the kitchen and looked from the evidence he had left behind from his tantrum. He swallowed and thought to look at Harvey instead.  “I can manage well enough.”

 

“Yeah? Well I’m starving; faster; and not about to take pain medication to make me woozy. So, no; I’ll serve us thank you very much.”  Jim didn’t book any argument and allowed Harvey to do just that. Before he knew it, they were seated at his small dining table.

 

“This is good. Thank you.” Jim praised once he took a bite of food. Harvey just grunted at him in immediate response before gazing at him from across the table. Jim had water to drink and Harvey had a beer.

 

Harvey picked up his drink and searched Jim’s expression before asking calmly, “What the _actual_ fuck, Junior? I’ve never seen you act like that before.”

 

“Like what?” Groused Jim hoping against hope that Harvey would drop the subject quickly. He knew he couldn’t stave off the conversation entirely, but perhaps a single answer his next turn speaking would be enough in the way of explanation.

 

“Like a homophobic dickhead.” Harvey shrugged a shoulder. “Which; if you think about it; would be kind of ironic, if you actually had one growing out of your forehead like some pornographic unicorn.”  Jim didn’t want to laugh; he honestly didn’t but the mental image tickled him and he ended up snickering despite himself.  Harvey joined in the laughter before finally taking a sip from his beer. Upon setting the can down he said, “So, you going to fess up now? Or do I have to chip away at you until you yell at me again?”

 

“There’s not anything to say, Harvey. I’m not like _that_ and I won’t be. Not for **anybody**.”

 

Harvey exhaled through his nose and studied Jim’s expression, really listened to what his best friend was saying. “That _way_? Won’t be for anybody? Jesus and all the Saints Jim, when did I ever accuse you, let alone think you were anything but what you tell me you are? Seriously, I never said that. Your words, Jim; your self-hatred. And let’s examine that a minute, shall we?”

 

“Harvey.” Jim warned drawing out the name.

 

Harvey held up a few fingers on his right hand silently biding Jim to humor him. “Did your dad ever say anything about homosexuals that you remember growing up?”

 

Jim looked stricken at the question. “N-no.” He said honestly considering the past. “But I heard him joking with other men in his office a few times.”

 

“So, where did he fall on the approval line? Tolerant or outraged?”

 

Jim sputtered a little attempting to regain his bearings. “I, I don’t know.” He bit his bottom lip. “My mother though,”

 

“I’m not asking you about her. I want to know about your dad.” Harvey interrupted sharply lowering his gesturing hand. “What did he specifically say, that makes you think he was anti-gay?”

 

“He,” Jim paused. “He just,” He swallowed and looked down attempting to recall every word he had ever heard his father speak on the subject. “He never brought it up. Not that I remember.”

 

“Then what the hell makes you think that if his favorite son was homosexual that he’d disown him? Hate him for it? Because from what you’ve told me of Peter Gordon that I didn’t read in the newspapers, he was a pretty unfazed type of guy.” Harvey smirked. “Unless they were someone he had in his prosecution cross hairs, then that was a whole other matter.”

 

Jim’s gaze liquified a little and he pulled his lips into a thin, and bloodless line. “Why does it matter what my dad thought about all that?”

 

“Because you’re trying to uphold this unrealistic standard to yourself that no one could live up too. You heap all the expectation of your family members and society onto your shoulders and you force yourself to conform to **their** views. That’s not healthy Jim. It won’t help you be anything but miserable in life. Barbara and Leslie? They were symptoms of a greater disease that you _think_ you have.  It isn’t a disease Jim, and wherever you fall in the heterosexual to homosexual spectrum, I think your father would have loved you regardless. I know I do. I don’t care who you sleep with as long as you consider me on your list of possibilities.”

 

A few tears slipped down Jim’s paled cheeks and he wiped them away angrily with his right hand. “It hurts.” Jim exhaled helplessly. Harvey pivoted in his chair and grabbed the pain medicine bottle off the counter and turned back, holding it out to Jim. “No,” Jim covered Harvey’s hand with his own, not touching the bottle. “I mean, yeah; I need to take some but no; that’s not what I was referring too.” He searched Harvey’s kind, green gaze as a few more tears wet his cheeks. “What if,” Jim halted and shook his head and looked down. Harvey squeezed his hand encouragingly and Jim raised his stare once more. “What if I were,” Jim’s voice dropped to a whisper. “ _that way_?”

 

Harvey shrugged and shook his head. “So? No one would care Jim. Your life would improve because you’d finally free yourself to be with someone you truly **want** to love.” Tenderly Harvey smiled.

 

“And if that love, isn’t you?” Harvey’s smile vanished. “What then Harvey? Would you still stand by my side?”

 

Reeling Harvey sat back a little in his chair. “How can you ask me that? Haven’t I proved to you by now that no matter what you do, or wherever you go, or whoever you’re with, I’m with you?” Harvey blinked back pained tears. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t love me the way I’m in love with you; all that matters is that we’re together in some capacity. That’s all that’s ever mattered.”

 

Jim squeezed Harvey’s hand and forced eye contact as his best friend and brother wiped his own eyes. “Hey, I was just asking; I wasn’t declaring anything. Understand?”

 

Harvey pulled his hand out of Jim’s grip and set the medicine bottle down. “Yeah, you were being a monumental prick to the both of us again. I get that.” Harvey sniffed and then cleared his throat. “Why is it so difficult for you Jim? To say that you want me? To let go and just be happy for once in your life?”

 

“Because what happens when I poison it?” Jim demanded snapping at Harvey. “I lose everything then Harvey; my best friend, my brother, the love of my life; **everything**. All because I touched you and couldn’t stop. Was weak and couldn’t let you go. What am I supposed to do then Harvey? After I’ve turned you against me and you can’t get away from me fast enough?”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Harvey exclaimed incredulously. “I’m a big boy, Jim; I know what I want and what I don’t want; or need; in my life, and I need and want **you**. You’re not poison; I don’t know who ever said that to you but it’s not true. What you and I have? _Could_ have? Will prove that to you in a heartbeat if you just give it the chance. I know what I’m doing.”

 

“I don’t.” Jim silenced. “I don’t know who I really am and I won’t sacrifice you because I’m a mess.”

 

“You, beautiful **idiot**.” Harvey stated leaning forward and touching Jim’s left cheek with a large, warm, palm.  “The choice has never been just up to you. You may feel like you have a tentative grasp of everything right now but I can be your rock. The foundation you build everything on. And, I won’t abandon you and leave you to destroy yourself like this. I love you, and all I’m asking you to do is give me a chance to show you what I can do to make your life not just bearable, but worth living.” Harvey ran his thumb up Jim’s cheek. “Now trust me.”

 

Jim swallowed and grabbed Harvey’s wrist with his right hand. The movement was a little awkward looking but neither of them was shooting for esthetics.  “Promise?” Jim barely managed to utter. Harvey nodded, and Jim closed his eyes and pushed his face into Harvey’s palm mirroring Harvey’s action. He started to cry and Harvey rose from his chair. He walked around to where Jim sat and pulled him against his middle. Instantly Jim’s arms encircled him and he pressed his face against Harvey’s belly. Gently the older male stroked his hair and the back of his neck, held him close and soothed him without words while he cried.

 

After a while Jim composed himself and Harvey smiled down at him. “Let’s get some pain medication in you and put you to bed.” Harvey stated softly.  Jim was pliant and agreed instantly. The rest would take him longer to wrap his mind around. He still hated himself; still was afraid to say the words out loud; but at least he knew that Harvey was going to be there with him every step of the way no matter what he decided to do.

 

Two months later the cast was finally off and in many ways so was Jim’s protective shell. He had accepted his sexuality and worked through the panic and disbelief; anger; of it to embrace himself in the end. He had moved into Harvey’s flat and the two had begun a love affair that was impassioned and made Jim the happiest he had ever been in his life. He smiled now, when before it had been a rare occurrence. He came out to his mother and Nora Gordon turned her back upon her youngest son and told him to remove himself from her home immediately, or she would call some of his colleagues to come and forcibly remove him. She didn’t need to tell him twice and Jim mourned the loss but was too busy with his improved life to permit it to cut him anymore than it already had.

 

At work unless the subject came up; Jim remained private about the matter. If anyone asked or implied that he and Harvey were more than just partners in justice, Jim would smile and in all seriousness answer truthfully.  No one was really all that surprised, and Jim was comfortable enough in his own skin now not to care if they weren’t. He was happy and that was all that mattered.  For Harvey, the only difficulty came from dodging higher ranking officers regarding the GCPD fraternization policy, but thus far he had managed to keep a lid on their exposure. He was prepared to step down as acting captain if it came to choosing his career or Jim, yet they both had discussed this and were prepared for any fall out they might encounter.  Neither one was going to give up their badge if they didn’t have too, but if they did Harvey agreed to be the one to retire leaving Jim to chase his dreams of becoming eventual police commissioner. As long as they remained together, Harvey and Jim were both willing to make sacrifices for the other.

 

As two months turned into three years, they saw promotions of each of them within the department. Jim to detective sergeant and Harvey to actual captain. They had moved into a better apartment with their pay raises and had set up household, including an extra bedroom that was currently a home office. An office they were seriously discussing turning into a nursery or child’s room once they adopted a child from one of the Gotham orphanages.  In the interim they played Uncles to the children in Harvey’s family, which eased the pain of Jim not knowing his own niece and nephew. Just as he no longer had communication with his brother Roger, the same was also said of his mother. Sometimes Jim found himself missing her, but her bitter anger at him shaming the family name had been proof enough that she loved an idea of society more than her own flesh and bone son.

 

Jim took Harvey to visit his father’s gravesite and then they visited Grace Bullock’s in turn. The introductions were for them more than the memory of their dead parents, but the result was helpful to them both. A few months later Jim proposed to Harvey and the two set a wedding appointment with City Hall for the fall of that year. Slowly but surely Jim learned that by taking the risk in hand and trusting Harvey, his entire life had turned around for the better. Not only had the older male healed himself, but he had healed Jim as well. While Jim no longer held any doubts that Peter Gordon would be proud of his youngest son, it no longer mattered to Jim if he was.


End file.
